PART3

Remy stalked to the large crowded bathroom with Andrew
beside him. The stink crawled into his nostrils
immediately, and he wrinkled his nose.
The bathroom took about 30 square feet and was full of
nude and half-nude men. Some of them stood under the
weak streams of faint-yellow water, others waited
outside the small cabins, that weren’t exactly cabins,
just some baffle-plates between the showers.
He shook his head in disgust. “No way I go there…” he
muttered. “This ‘shower’ will get me much dirtier than
I am now” Andrew shrugged. “You’ll shower, boy,
believe me. Sooner or later you’ll grow to like it.”
~I doubt, mon ami~
He looked around. Over 4/3 of men in the showers wore
thin metal collars on their necks. ~Well, it’d look
like another camp for mutants if only…~ he remembered
Andrew and Joshua – them and some other men had no
collars on. ~Weird…~
This time he noticed the huge man entering the
bathroom. He walked to the wall and unbuttoned his
flannel shirt, then pulled his tight t-shirt off over
the head and laid the clothes by the wall. LeBeau
glanced at his chest – and swallowed. If earlier he
thought the man was huge, now he could see muscles
ripping from under his skin, rolling under it with any
slightest move, as if they were living creatures with
their own mind.
He continued to observe the man, as he proceeded to
take his jeans off. His legs matched his upper body,
the same relaxed tension, like the one of a powerful
engine ready to start off. Remy felt nothing wrong in
looking at the naked man so intently – he appreciated
the beauty of both genders, as it was beyond them.
The hugie put his jeans down on the heap of his
clothes and walked to the nicest shower around. The
Spanian-like man was shoved out of the cabin with one
jerk of a clawed hand, and did nothing to return
there. The blondie must have been well-known here.
He was taking shower the longest, as the men changed
four times in the cabins beside, and he was still
enjoying the water running over his frame. Finally he
decided to finish his shower and walked out. In a few
steps he stopped and shook the water off. Remy gagged
at the sight. Mon Dieu, but that blondie just stopped
and shook like the dog does, water drops splashing in
every direction, Cajun’s shirt included.
That was bad enough, and the effect of the view faded
and was replaced by anger. “Careful, hugie” he noticed
indignantly.
Suddenly the silence fell in the bathroom, being
broken only by the water splashing on the floor in the
showers. The blondie stopped on his way and slowly,
ever so slowly turned to face the boy. Remy felt
uneasy under the stares of the other men around, but
mostly under the glare of the hugie. However, as he
stared back at him, his eyes carried challenging
calmness, as if he didn’t realize the man could crash
him with one move of his arm. They stared at each
other for what felt like hours, when hugie finally
parted his lips. “Victor Creed” he said in a deep low
voice full of threat, still considerably calm, as he
was stating a fact that was more than a name.
“Remy LeBeau” Cajun replied, his melodious voice
sounding high on the background of hugie’s… Victor’s
one. The man gave a slow nod as if taking a note and
turned away, pacing to where he left his clothes.
LeBeau noticed the people around moved slightly away
from him, as he had plague or something. He shrugged
to them in what’s-up-guys? way, but they kept
distance, several of them shaking their heads.
“You’ve received your death penalty, Cajun” Joshua
whispered into his ear while buttoning his shirt up.
“Try at least not to sign it.”
“Don’ care for big bulls” Remy tossed in response.

Victor didn’t show he heard something, but he did. The
kid was asking for trouble, and he was ready to give
him one. Basically, the kid was not so bad: animated
and agile, he was like a fresh air in this fucking
prison. Creed even considered taking him under
protection to amuse himself a bit, when that Cajun
burst out in the showers.
Creed didn’t like that agility turned against him. He
breathily thought of killing the kid, then kicked this
option to hell. Last time he killed that mongrel from
the cell next to his, he got an ugly punishment by
being locked alone in a small cell without water or
food. He thought it lasted months, still after he was
out, he got to know it was a weak only.
Not that he couldn’t stand hunger or thirst, much less
he cared about loneliness he was so used to. What he
hated was the size of the cell. Six feet square was
driving him insane, as he couldn’t even pace there
more than two steps without turning around, so he just
sat or lied.
No Cajun in the world was worth getting into that
cell-box again.
The killing wasn’t obligatory though. He had other
ways. Iron-soft ways.